A Rage in the Heavens (The Paladin Trilogy Book 1) (29 page)

They stared at each other for a long moment, both coming to understand the other. Then Shannon reached out and took the bag.

“I will carry the news of your generosity to my Father,” she told him. “Is there any message you wish to send him?”

Joshua’s jaw hardened, his eyes going to the door which led back to the chess master dressed in the robes of a bishop. Finally, he said, “Yes. Tell him that for my part, I shall never again brand him heretic.”

* * * * *

They bid a hasty good-bye to Father Joshua at the gates of the Cathedral, and they needed to be pointed back into the direction of the bazaar, their sense of direction having completely deserted them in the city. As they hurried back down one street and then another, the sun was already setting, and the weariness of the day was eclipsed by the need to reach their quarry before all the shops were closed. The crowds around the booths had thinned, most people moving towards home and supper, leaving bargaining for another day, and when they found the familiar booth, Raulea was slowly clearing her trade goods off the counter.

“What is the fastest form of travel for two people that you know, Raulea?” Shannon asked without preamble.

The woman let out a slow sigh, a sign her patience was nearing its end, and she said, “The day is closing down, and so am I. Come back tomorrow. I’ll be better at riddles in the morning.”

“But we can’t afford the wait!”

“And I can’t afford the rush.”

Shannon reached into the bag they carried and produced half a dozen gold coins that she placed down on the counter, getting the woman’s instant attention. “Will that be enough to pay for your time?”

Raulea quickly gathered the coins, glanced at them briefly before slipping them into a pocket, and then studied the two young people before her, clearly wondering at their change in fortunes.

“A winged pegasus,” she responded finally. “Even the eagles envy their speed.”

Shannon blinked, the answer taking her by surprise. “And do you know how we might reach such a creature?”

The woman shrugged her massive shoulders, her eyes on the bag that had produced the golden bounty. “Aye, I might be able help you there. But a pegasus will want a richer fare than one of Peddler Jack’s tokens. Especially if it must bear two riders.”

“Will this be enough?” Shannon asked as she set the bag on the counter before her. Raulea looked inside and gasped. “If you can insure our passage, we will leave you with enough gold to pay for your time.”

As she slowly raised her head, her eyes were narrow and thoughtful, and for a moment, Shannon feared the woman was going to drive a harder bargain. But Raulea simply said, “I’ll leave my fee to you. But this gold alone will not be enough to buy you passage.”

“But it must be enough,” Jhan insisted. “It’s all we have!”

The woman held up a hand. “Peace. Gold by itself has small value to a pegasus. But with a bag such as this, we should be able to buy a few items which they do hold precious. Come.” She threw down her apron and waddled around the edge of the booth. “We’ve some hard bargaining to do before nightfall.”

CHAPTER 18

Flight to the Mountaintop

By morning’s end, Darius and Adella had raced through the central highlands and entered the green, rolling hills which were the vanguard of the mountains, each little valley with a stream running through it, the woodlands growing thicker. Adella was leading the way, keeping to a rough lane through the hills that led both north and east, and Darius was beginning to worry about their progress. It seemed Llan Praetor was even farther east than he had anticipated, and each league traveled meant another added to his journey back to Duke’s Hall.

Andros was still straining at the bit, the morning run hardly more than a warm-up, but Adella’s mare was blowing hard, clearly in need of a rest. They slowed to a walk, giving the horse time to catch her breath, both of them drinking in the patches of noon sun that made its way through the leaves.

“This is First Day, isn’t it?” Adella asked. “Aren’t you holy folk supposed to take the day off or something?”

Darius chuckled. “It’s the Lord-Father’s Day, which means you lay folk get the day off. But usually, His servants work even harder.”

“A paladin,” said Adella thoughtfully. “What is a paladin, anyway?”

Darius’ eyebrows rose slightly at the question.

“We are the sword of Mirna, the God’s weapon on earth,” he answered. “The priests are the means by which Mirna dispenses His Grace. We are the means by which He delivers His Vengeance.”

“Vengeance on who?”

“On those who would slay or enslave His Children.”

She laughed out loud. “That must pit you against half the human race.”

“So you can see why I can’t afford a day’s rest,” he said with a smile.

She smiled back, her eyes moving slowly over his horse, his armor, coming to rest on the hilts of Sarinian in its scabbard.

“You’ve shown some slight skill with that great hacking sword of yours,” she continued wryly. “Where did you learn it?”

“From Bilan-Ra, the Messenger of Mirna and the Lord of the Chosen. He gave me the weapons and taught me enough to survive. The rest I learned in battle.”

“So this Bilan-Ra is your master?”

“My master is Mirna,” Darius said simply. “Bilan-Ra brings me word of His Will.”

“You’ve never seen Mirna?”

“I’ve never actually set eyes upon Him, if that’s your meaning.”

“What kind of life is that?” scoffed Adella. “Spending your days as the servant of someone you never see, measuring your success in terms of things that don’t happen? Death would be a welcomed relief from such a life.”

Darius shrugged lightly. “Someone I never see, yet who is with me always. But what of you? How is your success measured?”

“In golden dinars, my friend,” she answered with a grin. “The more the coins, the greater the glory. Silver is fine, gems are better, and magic is best of all. If you wish to judge the quality of a thief, check her money cache.”

“Is that all?” he asked. “There is no credit given for friendship, for generosity, for caring? Money is the beginning and the end of your life?”

“When you start life poor, you give money a high place,” she said shrugging in turn. “I’ll never hear my stomach rumble with hunger again or feel cold rain on my homeless back, and it’s my sword, not your god, that did that.”

He let out a sigh. “The God has tried to care for such pain. That’s why He sent us priests.”

“The only thing I ever got from the yellow robes was a cry of ‘Stop, thief!’. I can do well enough without them.”

“Something else we have in common,” Darius muttered to himself.

Adella’s ears perked at that, and she studied him closely.

“The Church seems less than pleased by your presence,” she said. “You’d best take care. Those fine folk are out to roast your bacon.”

“Beg pardon?”

“They’re going to tie you to a stake one day and set fire to you,” she said distinctly, as if speaking to a simpleton. “I trust you’ve heard of the Ritual of Purification?”

“Certainly I know it,” he answered. “And I know the road that leads to that stake. They must first condemn me, bring me to trial, and then find me guilty. And that is all far more difficult than you might think.”

Adella snorted in answer. “You’re much too innocent, my friend. You have no idea of the capacity of honest people for the vilest treachery.”

The words struck home, but Darius said nothing, merely looking out at the green woodlands. They were beautiful and peaceful, and for a moment, he was heartsick for the forests of Delberaine. Adella followed his lead.

“Hold!” she cried suddenly. Alarmed, Darius pulled Andros to a halt.

She jumped lightly off her mount and headed towards the forest. “Rest the horses awhile. There’s something I want here.”

“I’ve no time to tarry,” he warned.

“A few moments now will shorten our road,” she called back over her shoulder as she vanished into the wood.

He sighed and dismounted, giving the horses a chance to walk a little among the trees. This part of the wood seemed perfect for fruit trees, the wild blossoms of spring attracting people and insects alike, and Darius heard a steady drone of bees as he walked through the blossoms. There was a very wide variety of species, the color of the flowers ranging from white to deep burgundy, and the mixture of the fragrances was enough to make him a little light-headed. He rubbed his nose, shook his head, and began to make his way back to the road.

“Lend a hand!”

He looked up to see Adella coming back through the woods, dragging a heavy sack behind her. The sack was bouncing on the ground and leaving a small smear of green liquid behind it

“What in the name of Goodness…?” he wondered.

“Have a care,” she said. “I’ve lost too many already.”

An acrid smell assailed his nose, the scent even harsher after the sweetness of the flowers, and he actually took a step back.

“What…what is that?” he asked with a gasp, but he reluctantly took hold of his half of the sack and helped lift it from the ground

“They’re called Yonga Fruit,” Adella grinned. “They’re far from being ripe, and that’s the reason for the smell. Later, they’ll sweeten some, but they always have that tart flavor.”

“You plan to eat these?”

“Not me,” she answered. “But there are some creatures that find Yonga Fruit irresistible.”

“Such as?”

“You’ll see.” She paused as they neared the road and eyed the two horses dubiously.

“Just how well behaved is that nag of yours?” she asked.

Darius frowned. “That depends on what you’re planning to subject him to.”

She grinned again. “Call him over.”

Reluctantly, Darius called to Andros who came immediately and stood patiently beside him while Adella carefully looped the sack over his back. But even Andros shied a little at the strange smell of the raw fruit, and Darius had to reassure him by patting his neck. A few moments later, she had the sack secured behind the saddle.

“There,” she said with obvious satisfaction. “Now they’ll know you’re coming a mile off.”

“Is there some purpose to this other than your amusement?” Darius asked.

Adella answered by leaping back into the saddle of her mare and said, “Follow me, and you’ll find out!”

Darius mounted Andros and charged in pursuit down the forest lane, both horses running better for their short rest. The small bundle did nothing to slow Andros, though Darius quickly learned to keep him behind Adella’s mare to spare her the stench of the fruit. The snow-capped mountains in the distance had been looming ever closer, the green hills now giving way to a rockier terrain, and oddly, the forest lane which they had been following began to emerge as a full road again, even though there seemed no traffic in this deserted region.

Adella was hardly pausing at all during the afternoon, pushing both horses to the limit of their endurance, and on the packed earth of the road, they made excellent time. Long before dusk, they entered the shadow of the mountains and began the long climb as the road now wound its way around the peaks. The temperature here fell noticeably, bringing with it a chill like foreboding, and the winds were already whistling as they were funneled between the great crags.

“Easy!” called Darius at last. “These horses need a blow, or they’ll drop before they go another league.”

“With luck, we’ll need them for even less than that,” Adella said, though she slowed the mare to a walk.

Surprised, Darius looked up at the craggy summits standing high above them and frowned. Aside from the road, there was no sign of any habitation, let alone a great mountain fortress, and it certainly seemed as if it would take days to follow the winding road up to the peak.

“I don’t understand,” he said. “I though Llan Praetor stood at the pinnacle of one of these mountains.”

“True enough. In fact, it’s the entire mountaintop,” she answered. She, too, looked upward, but she seemed to be studying the waning daylight rather than the heights around them. She nodded slowly to herself. “We’ve made excellent time. We should be ready.”

“Ready for what?”

“You’ll see,” she said again with a mysterious grin.

Darius sighed, annoyed, but he knew he would get nothing further from her. He tried a different topic.

“What is this road?” he asked. “It seems in excellent shape for the little traffic it must bear.”

“It’s Llan Praetor’s Road,” she replied. “Or Malcolm’s. The two have come to mean the same thing over the past decade or so.”

“You mean Malcolm has not always lived at Llan Praetor?”

She looked at him in some surprise. “Of course not. Llan Praetor is ancient, going back to a time even before the founding of the Southlands. Nobody’s too sure who actually built it, though everybody seems to have a guess. Few people could even reach the castle, and none could figure out how to enter. Until Malcolm, that is. About a dozen years ago, he managed to gain access to the citadel, and he has stayed there all this time, exploring its secrets, its powers, and its treasures.”

She paused and looked at him sideways as if fearing she had said too much. Darius gave no sign of particular interest, though his ears were burning in warning. Secrets, powers, treasures, the words and the tone in which they had been spoken opened an entire new perspective for him, a perspective filled with an ugly doubt. Her sudden appearance in the outlands where no horse could have overtaken him, her flawless knowledge of the road to Llan Praetor, her willingness to stand by him against the bandits. I measure success in golden dinars, he remembered her saying. Am I being played for a fool?

There is treachery somewhere ahead
, rumbled Sarinian, and Darius willed the sword to silence. He concentrated instead on the woman’s warm and subtle words, the special looks they had shared, the magical night by the waterfall. Such feelings were as real as the horses on which they rode. It couldn’t have all been just an elaborate game. Could it?

No, his heart assured him. But his mind still wondered.

To keep his face from betraying him, he quickly turned his attention back to the terrain around them. The road had narrowed to a naked rim circling the mountain with a bare cliff on one side and a sheer drop on the other. They already seemed to have climbed quite a ways, the drop to their right frightening to behold, and he was beginning to suspect the floor of the narrow pass between the peaks must actually be falling away.

Adella’s eyes suddenly shot up to the peaks above them.

“This will do nicely,” she announced, reining in her horse.

Darius frowned and looked around as Adella dismounted. Following her glance, he could see far above a narrow strand passing from their mountain to the next.

“What is that?”

“The High Bridge,” she answered as she pulled the foul-smelling bundle off of Andros and began to empty it. “From this point on, the road is littered with the bones of thieves who challenged Malcolm’s magic. But don’t worry. I know a safer way.”

The Yonga Fruit that she took from the satchel were the size of a small melon and bright green in color, and each one was dripping with an even brighter green syrup that looked disgusting. The stench was nearly overpowering.

“Get the horses out of here, but keep the saddles,” she said as she concentrated on the messy fruit. “They’re in much greater danger than we are.”

Darius did as he was bid, taking the gear and the saddles from the horses, and pointing them back down the path from whence they had come. Andros neighed and shook his head, but Darius soothed him with soft words and a reassuring pat on his neck. Reluctantly, the stallion headed back down the road, the mare following, but Darius knew they would only go a few miles to where the grass still grew, awaiting his summons.

“Keep a wary eye above,” Adella said without glancing at him. “I need a few moments yet.”

She had produced a small flask and was pouring the contents over the pile of fruit, being careful to evenly distribute the contents over each melon. She then drew some kind of jewelry or amulet from an inner pocket which she was careful to keep Darius from seeing clearly, but he caught sight of it once: a wrought platinum design set with one large blood ruby. As he watched, Adella held the amulet in one hand and placed her other over the pile.

“Yath nal Kregas mar,”
she intoned, and her closed hand began to glow with a dark, blood red.

“Reve Al Faruth!”
she cried softly, and a small burst of light leapt from her open palm and struck the first of the Yonga Fruit, though there was no apparent change. She repeated the process with the second melon, then a third, moving methodically over the pile.

Darius stood quietly, watching, morbidly fascinated at seeing magic being weaved before his very eyes, maintaining a respectful silence, but curiosity finally got the better of him.

“What is it that you’re doing there?”

“A man named Bollas had a fine idea a few years back,” she said as she moved to the last of the fruit. “He fired a crossbow bolt with a rope attached into that cliff over there, then swung across and began to climb the rocks. It was a clever way to pass the High Bridge, but he never made it to the top.”